


I Just Needed a Goddamn Car

by NocturnLily



Series: Steelport Fuckery [1]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Car Chases, Gang Violence, you owe me a fuckin car and im taking this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NocturnLily/pseuds/NocturnLily
Summary: ...and I took yours cause fuck you.
Series: Steelport Fuckery [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741627
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	I Just Needed a Goddamn Car

**Author's Note:**

> Or: I _maybe_ may have heckled some Luchadores in my game and some stuff went down, and I thought it would be a fun idea to make my gal Vee suffer for it. I'm a good OC mom, I promise.

Luca was going to _kill_ her.

Véronique didn't even bother twisting in her seat as she aimed the Krukov over the back end of the Sovereign she was driving. The Compensator behind her — black, green, with a grill that stood as tall as her five-foot-n-change stature — was starting to gain and goddammit she didn't _mean_ to plow through that crowd. It wasn't _her_ fault Luchadores went sailing over her hood.

The itch to cause trouble on purpose was an old one, but Killbane's boys were the last she wanted to irritate when she was _supposed_ to be doing work for the Boss. In trying to make her getaway three more got gobbled by her grill, and one of them must have lived long enough to make a call.

Ratty, worn buildings blurred past as Véronique sped through the streets. She knew certain parts of the city by heart, now, and recognized the gargantuan casino looming to her left; the semi-pickup was fast, but only on flat stretches — a tighter turn radius meant she could lose her pursuers a lot quicker. She took a turn, then another, played ring-around-the-rosie on a small block, then gunned it for Three Count. Véronique couldn't see the truck anymore, and breathed a sigh of relief as she whipped around the perimeter of the building.

She brought the Sovereign over the curb, to the surprise of pedestrians nearby, and let the engine idle as she checked her phone for messages. Véronique got as far as unlocking it when more shots rang out, sending nearby folks running for cover. More Luchadores stood around on the catwalks of a nearby utility rig, and apparently they'd gotten the memo.

That, or they just didn't like her colours. She didn't bother asking which.

A sound somewhere between irritation and aggression rolled out of Véronique in a high-pitched growl. She leveled her Krukov and squeezed the trigger, hopping out of the car and ducking behind it for cover. Two dropped, and she managed to clip a handful more before reloading. Short bursts were enough to wipe out most nuisances, but she hadn't counted on a firefight today. She was caught unprepared; pawing at her pockets for another mag turned up fruitless, and she scrambled back into the car for her pistol.

Unfortunately for her, the jump between the catwalks and the cliff they sat beside wasn't a big one. By the time she dug through the glove box and retrieved the weapon, several masked assholes nearly made it to her with guns drawn. Véronique cursed hard — for big dudes, they moved _fast_ — as she continued to pump rounds into them.

It bought her some breathing room, but a loud, angry rumble ahead of her cut that short. The Compensator she'd lost earlier barreled around the corner ahead of her, no doubt drawn by gunfire, and a thrum of fear shot into her throat as another pickup followed behind it.

She just couldn't catch a break today.

Véronique decided to cut her losses and bail; this was too much for one person, and there was no time to call in backup. Her fingers locked around the ignition when the Compensator slid sideways to block the road. More men spilled into the streets, and she ducked as muzzle flashes lit across both lanes against her; glass shattered, and she felt a tire give out. The Sovereign's engine roared to life and she threw it in reverse, ignoring the cries of pedestrians caught behind her.

The car was reinforced, but there was a limit. The rattle of so many rounds shook the Sovereign to its frame, and it was all she could do to keep it steady as she ran. Véronique managed to clear both heavy-duty vehicles and risked peeking over the dashboard. Rather, she tried — smoke began rolling through the windshield's frame, tossing her into a coughing fit, and she realized just how fucked her ride was.

Not even hers, it was _Luca's_. Goddammit.

Why she thought running to the Luchadores base of _goddamn operations_ to hide was a good thing wasn't important right now. She needed to get out, get to safety, but there was too much heat on her. The shrieking scrape of fender against asphalt was like a beacon through New Baranec, drawing the attention of any foot-bound Luchadores she passed. The parade of black and green behind her was signal enough, and Véronique's heart thundered against her chest as she drove through gunfire on all sides. The smoke belching from the Sovereign went dark, blinding her as she barreled down the highway.

Everything blew past 'worse' as she ran headlong into a barricade halfway to freedom. She was launched from the driver's seat, thrown into a bouncing roll over asphalt, as something exploded. Véronique had the presence of mind enough to guard herself as best she could, but that didn't stop her world from going sideways.

Get up.

Véronique knew she'd be paste if she didn't move, but there was a disconnect. No matter how hard she willed it, none of her limbs would obey.

 _Get up_.

There was yelling somewhere to her right, and a dark mass of a vehicle approached. Something bulbous and menacing rolled its way to the sky. It was smoke.

_GET UP._

Heavy boots crunched into the asphalt. One of them collided with her side, and a deflating wheeze escaped as she rolled with the momentum. Nothing was broken — _somehow_ — but everything felt terribly thick and sore. Véronique crawled, lurching and stumbling away from the Luchador before suffering another swift kick to her stomach. Saliva spilled from her lips in thick ropes, and continued efforts to get away were met with mocking laughter.

Her body ached, but her pride burned more. A Saint, crawling on hands and knees? Shameful. _Pitiful._ Nevermind she was surrounded by men three times her size. Sheer, blunt-force stubbornness had gotten her out of worse situations, but the guns trained on her tempered any show of bravado. Even in the thick of a head fog, she knew she needed to be smart about this. They seemed awfully tickled at having trapped a little, lone lady in purple.

That's how she'd play it.

Véronique twisted her face into what she hoped was pained and pleading — easy to do when your life fucking depends on it — and it got the reaction she wanted. The source of their trouble for the day was no longer a threat; like a cat with a scared, injured mouse, they took turns potshotting and corralling her in the circle they trapped her in. Concentration was difficult to keep hold of, but she did her best to recover her senses.

The closest vehicle was a Criminal, and the doors still hung open. Perfect.

Her legs weren't locking up in protest anymore, thank God. When she got close enough, Véronique dug the toes of her boots into the asphalt and pushed herself up. Immediately her vision went sideways as she went for it, sending her ping-ponging between two Luchadores; she was quicker, though, evading their hands and hauling herself into the driver's seat. Ignition on, foot on the gas and wheel already spinning, Véronique wasted no time plowing through the men in her way and towards freedom.

Serves them fucking right for blowing up her boss's car.

A shame she'd still have to answer for that, though.


End file.
